


eye scream

by Zekkass



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Bondage, Eye Sex, Eye Trauma, Gore, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Rape, Robot Sex, Robots, Torture, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 05:16:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20002915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/pseuds/Zekkass
Summary: TFA AU where Wasp wasn't framed as a traitor, Cliffjumper was. The Stockades have prisoners from the war: the Combaticons.And Vortex, being a professional torturer and messed up freak, gets along great with the guards.Cliffjumper's getting an eyepatch out of this.





	eye scream

**Author's Note:**

> holy flipflops don't read this if you have a weak stomach, it's robot gore and torture all the way down. Written for Arco because they love torturing this robot almost as much as I love writing it.
> 
> No plot, only torture. Enjoy? Enjoy!

Cliffjumper on his knees, hands bolted to the floor. Dried energon spattered on his knees.

Vortex hasn’t felt this alive in centuries. The Stockades are so profoundly boring, but this? This also makes their imprisonment worth it.

He grunts as he pries off Cliffjumper’s armor, exposing terribly important cables nested along his struts.

“There you are,” he sing-songs, stroking fingertips over the cables. “Little trick about minibots: a smaller frame means more compact innards, right? Smaller parts across the board, right? Wrong! Look - these cables - “ He taps a little bracket. “Poor things just want to be free.”

He pries that out next. Cliffjumper’s still silent, beaten into a surly silence. Well, that and his brutalized vocalizer. Once you get a mech restrained, always start with the vocalizer. You get the best screams and you can tune it so you don’t have to endure any interruptions.

Frag, this is the best. No one’s going to interrupt, because the guards of the Stockade are even more messed up than he is - they’re watching the footage of this and jacking it, probably. Frag if he cares, this is about Vortex’s fun.

This is about carefully working those cables loose so he can hold them in his hand. Every cable links up into the cranial unit, every cable is so profoundly important that it’s hilarious messing with them.

Vortex has experimented with these things, he’s made mechs feel weird sensations and make their frame flop around - they’re important, but today he’s got something more fun in mind.

Today he wants Cliffjumper to hold very, very still.

“Ready?” He grins and lets go of the cables, watching where they fall and how they want to lie. Then he sets up a sharp little wire under them. Secures it against Cliffjumper’s shoulders.

Sharp enough that where it lies against those cables, it easily bites into the casing. Makes Cliffjumper’s frame lock up, deeper survival protocols freezing everything below the neck because if that stuff gets severed, he’s dead.

Cliffjumper’s vocalizer stutters, “f-frag.”

Broken little sound. Vortex purrs and comes around to look at his face.

To look at his pretty blue optics, always angry and wounded and betrayed because someone’s completely innocent of every crime ever, and he doesn’t belong in the Stockades.

“I’m going to give you a souvenir,” Vortex says, trying not to giggle. Frag this is fun! “Something so you remember us by. Because I’m also giving you a special trip out of here. For a while, at least.” Now he’s laughing.

“F-frag you,” whispers that spitting vocalizer, and Vortex laughs harder.

He grabs Cliffjumper by the horns, letting his spike out.

“Yes, that’s it, that’s the idea!” And he angles Cliffjumper’s helm, going up on his pedes a little so he can rub it all over his optics. Smear a little transfluid, make him groan because frag that’s pretty, blue light filtered through his own fluids, and if those lights try to shut - he reaches down, prying off delicate metal. A little growl from that vocalizer - but Cliffjumper hates to scream.

“Ready?”

“Stop - asking - “

Vortex wants to hear him scream.

Vortex slams his spike forward, through an optic, shrieking at the pain of it as he destroys glass and plastic and wiring and - nng, that’s probably braincasing he’s poking into now, buried into Cliffjumper’s head, and there - 

There’s the scream, the shout, the complete confusion because the trick to torturing a mech is to surprise them. Make them scream because they can’t move and Vortex is spiking their optical hole and now he’s thrusting, laughing and gasping at the sensation.

He’s going to rip something in his spike but who cares, holy frag this is amazing, better than any port - 

He has to hold Cliffjumper’s horns tight to keep him from moving in a bad way, and he’s probably denting braincasing, but who cares, who cares if he kills him, this is amazing - 

He overloads with a furious yell, that’s too soon, fraggit - He pulls out, panting. Stops to admire how messed up Cliffjumper looks with transfluid dripping out of his optical hole.

Look at those bared dentae, fangs that promise violence, if only he weren’t paralyzed and threatened with death.

If only.

Vortex laughs and walks away, because if he overloaded that fast he needs Onslaught to suck him off and scold him for damaging their cellmate.

Needs Onslaught to see, so Cliffjumper can be sent to a medic out of the Stockades, a specialist.

A gift for Shockwave.


End file.
